In Search of Respite
by borgprincess
Summary: Molly and the guys are forced to take a few days off. However are they going to cope! Just don't take the premise too seriously and you'll be just fine...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Threshold is not mine. Life just isn't that kind.

Author's note: I should probably reference one of the quotes I used to fanboy on the Threshold forum. It's paraphrased, but you should recognize it! This is my first attempt at a team fic- it's so much harder for me to write them all at once…

In Search of Respite

In the command center of Threshold, a highly classified set of protocols that had demanded its own clandestine headquarters upon activation, the last member of the Red Team arrived, apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry," Lucas expressed his contrition as he hurried down the stairs. "I was just so caught up with what I was doing, it completely slipped my mind…I knew there was something- have I kept you waiting long? I was just completely distracted, I'm sorry…" he trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair, completing its descent into dishevelment.

The matter could have been laid to rest there, however, another member of the team felt inclined to comment, "He was probably playing Halo again. You, my little friend," Ramsey said, directly addressing the other man, "are totally hooked on that game- this addiction of yours is out of hand."

The portly black man cleared his throat. "Now that we are all here," Baylock began ponderously, with a meaningful look at the mathematician, causing the younger man to look down in chagrin. Unfortunately, he was not permitted to continue any further as Ramsey interrupted.

"I'm serious, it's a problem when your eyes are glued to the screen for hours on end, and your fingers twitch nervously when the joystick isn't in your grasp- haven't you heard of the dangers of repetitive strain injury?" he lectured Lucas in true dramatic fashion, his hands waving eloquently to emphasize his point.

"Ramsey, I would be delighted to enlighten you further, in fact, I am willing to loan you a sizeable amount of the literature on the subject, but for now, I think this meeting was called for a _reason_," Fenway said with sardonic restraint, borne of hard-endured experience with the dwarf.

The little exchange elicited an amused glance exchanged between the last two members of the circle that had formed- Molly's deep green eyes sparkled with humor and a smirk appeared on Cavennaugh's face at the cutting remark delivered to Ramsey.

"Thank you, Doctor," Baylock spoke to him but aimed his penetrating stare at Ramsey. It lacked the potent effect it had on Lucas, however, simply eliciting a shrug from the pint-sized offender. "I am ordering you all to take the next week off," Baylock told the assembled group sternly. As expected, there was immediate protest.

"I have to protest, there is a backlog of samples that are awaiting evaluation for the trials I have planned-" Fenway spoke up at once. There were clearly limits to his willingness to side with the deputy National Security Advisor.

"I'm afraid that's unreasonable," Molly said, adding her own objection. "We can't afford to take time off at this point-"

"Actually, I have to agree with them," Lucas wore an apologetic expression once more.

"Well, I don't!" Ramsey exclaimed, cheering, "Vacation time, yeah!"

Thus far, only one member of the group had remained silent, but he deliberately caught Baylock's eye. "Why now?" Cavennaugh asked the man at the center of the uproar. The proposal had left him on edge, unease visibly tensing his body as it drew his face into taut, expressionless lines.

"You all have been through a lot," Baylock said adamantly. "You're on the verge of collapse. When was the last time any of you slept? Caffrey, you wrote the protocols yourself but you're just as guilty as the rest of them when it comes to neglecting yourself in favor of work. This can't continue for much longer before the whole team falls apart. Take some time to rejuvenate yourselves, sleep off some of that nervous energy and come back when you're refreshed- because right now, the people who die from alien infection look a lot better than you," he finished bluntly.

"A week is too long," Molly said forthrightly, then injected a beseeching note into her tone as she wheedled, "Come on, we don't really need all that time off, JT…"

A mutter that may have been something along the lines of, "The hell we don't," emitted from Ramsey's general vicinity, but was quickly stifled under the combined glares from the other three men opposed to the idea. Having admitted once before that he was a lover, not a fighter, the dwarf subsided, content in the happy knowledge that once JT had spoken, it would be so.

"Give me one good reason," Baylock challenged her, spreading his hands to indicate his willingness to hear her out.

Molly exchanged glances with the others. "Well, we can probably come up with several, actually," she said with conviction. "The impending alien invasion, for one…"

"The end of the world as we know it," Fenway added, eyes mockingly glinting behind his glasses.

"The future of all mankind depends on us," Lucas said, with the eagerness reminiscent of a child aiming to please. "After all, if we don't succeed, who else is going to save them, right? So every moment we're away from here, the more we're endangering their very existence!"

"Not to mention the resources needed to provide the team with adequate protection," Cavennaugh considered the alternative aspects of the proposal. "The security detail required to oversee their safety would detract from the efficiency of the current program."

"Which is why I'm going to have to ask that you all stick together for the time that you are out of here-" renewed protests assailed his ears, as Ramsey joined with the others to baulk at the demand.

"How is it a vacation if I'm forced to stick with these guys for a week?" he complained. "They're no fun at all!" They did not even bother to glare at him, caught up in making their own cases.

"I'm not listening to any more arguments," Baylock said with an air of finality. "Since I'm not completely heartless, I'll reduce it to four days, but that's it. Now go." As they reluctantly moved towards the door, he had one final comment. "You lot have fun now…"

-end chapter one-


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Threshold is not mine. Life just isn't that kind.

A/N: Sorry, Celeste, they're not going anywhere exotic! As I said, just somewhere close to home…snickers at mention of hated show

In Search of Respite

"No," she protested. "Absolutely not!" Molly's hands found their way to her hips as she raised her chin rebelliously. The men were clustered around her, expressions varying from cheekily delighted to doubtful indecision to suppressed amusement, and finally to the singularly displeased. She was in no mood to appreciate the observation, though, considering how she had been ganged up on.

"Why not?" Ramsey, the chief culprit behind her predicament, rubbed his hands together with glee. "It's the perfect solution." He began to hum a merry little tune under his breath as he plotted.

"JT said we had to stick together…" Lucas said, shrugging helplessly. "In light of that, I think Ramsey's suggestion might actually be the best option available to us."

"After all, you said no to all my suggestions," Ramsey said in a miffed tone.

"Your suggestions involved strippers, night-clubs and booze," Molly said pointedly.

"And your objection was-?" he said, grinning in response to the disdainful look she tossed him.

Lucas continued, "We can't stay at my place, there's no way we would all fit, especially with Rachel around. I don't even want to think about how Ramsey's furnished his place-"

"Speaking of furnishings, I don't really have much of anything at mine," Cavennaugh interjected. "I don't really spend a lot of time there, so there wasn't any need. It sure wouldn't comfortably house the five of us for the next four days."

Fenway stiffened as he was placed under the spotlight, the focus of attention from the others. "What? Don't bring me into this- and if you think for one moment that I am going to be responsible for all of you, then you can just forget the whole idea. My house is off-limits."

"Why does he get to refuse?" Molly muttered rebelliously. "Look, I just moved in, I haven't had time to get organized, there's still some unpacking…"

"See, Molly, that makes it even more perfect," Ramsey enthused. "We can certainly help you with that- it can be our way of unwinding, and we will learn the true meaning of team spirit and co-operation in coming to the aid of a colleague."

She looked at him disparagingly. "You just want to go through my underwear drawer again, don't you?" said Molly. "Well, _that_ is strictly off-limits, and no matter what JT says about sticking together, if I find out you've breached this rule, I am throwing you out."

"Understood," he said with immediate nonchalance, spreading his hands as if to declare himself innocent of any wrongdoing. Molly nevertheless kept that pointed stare on him til he uncomfortably felt the urge to squirm under its force, rather like the sensation of a worm on a hook, before she finally resigned herself to making the best of a bad situation.

"Guys, I never thought I'd say this to you, but- looks like we're having a sleepover at my place!" a tight little smile appeared on her face as she spun around and made her way out of the conference room. "I'll make the arrangements with JT. And," Molly paused at the doorway, determined to have the last word in this, "I just hope you all don't live to regret making this decision."

She vanished, leaving the men with a disconcerting feeling of apprehension.

"What did she mean by that?" Lucas wondered.

Ramsey shrugged. "She didn't mean anything by that." He met their disbelieving looks. "What?"

"Women convey a lot of subtleties by tone- I think that tone meant something," said Cavennaugh.

"My ex-wives could testify to that…" murmured Fenway. "And my personal experience would advise you all to harbour some misgivings over what is to come."

"It's not like she's going to kill us or something," Ramsey scoffed.

Lucas cleared his throat nervously. "I _really_ wish you hadn't mentioned that possibility," he said. "Well, I'm going to go get ready. Something tells me Molly won't be hanging around, waiting for any stragglers…"

"You're right- I don't want to risk missing out on this!" Ramsey agreed, the two leaving together.

"The dwarf who thinks there's the remotest possibility that he might hook up with Molly is looking forward to this; the guy with a dozen ex-wives is sensing negative vibes," Cavennaugh summarized the situation. He met the doctor's gaze, "So I should expect trouble?"

"A hippo does not have a sting in its tail, but a wise man would still rather be sat on by a bee," Fenway said expressively, delighting in the perplexing phrase. He did so enjoy being enigmatic. "Polish proverb. Interpret it as you wish. Meanwhile, I still have some productive avenues I can pursue whilst you ponder."

"Where is the linguist when you need him?" Cavennaugh said to an empty room, after watching Fenway leave. He himself was in no hurry, with few possessions to load him down and necessities already packed and waiting. Molly had been an inspiration in that area; the occasions on which she had been prepared with an extra set of clothing to handle unforeseen events had prompted him to adopt a similar approach in order not to be caught out. Uncharacteristically pensive, Cavennaugh now wondered what other things they would learn of and from this woman in the next four days…

A/N: This is all an elaborate set-up to get the gang to Molly's place, it's not meant to be taken seriously, okay?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Threshold is not mine. Life just isn't that kind.

In Search of Respite

"I thought I covered every imaginable scenario in my Threshold plan," Molly reflected, covering her eyes for a moment as though to hide from the reality of what was to come. "Little did I know I needed to prepare to put up four men in my own house."

Baylock sighed heavily. "I didn't want to do this to you," he said sternly.

"It's not too late to rescind the order," she pounced on that opening. If there was one thing Molly Caffrey loved to do, it was to live in hope.

Sadly, her hopes were dashed as he shook his head and continued, "I didn't want to quote your own words back at you, but it looks like I may just have to, in order to persuade you that this is _important_. One of the things you were most adamant about when we first activated your plan- you said to me that part of crisis management involved looking after the welfare of the team, else you wound up with a plan that would fall apart quicker than you could make a new one. Do you remember saying that?"

"Yes," she said reluctantly, knowing how this would end, but trying anyway. "However, I didn't mean for you to take that as invitation to-"

"I'm sure you strongly believe in doing what is in your team's best interests. This is it," Baylock asserted. "Take the time off, that's all I'm asking you to do, Molly."

"Of course you would back me into a corner by using my own words against me," she said ruefully, conceding defeat. She would just have to accept the inevitable, and really, Molly struggled to convince herself, it was not such a terrible situation. True, these men were hardly those she would have normally chosen to spend vacation time with, nor would her residence have been the ideal location, but they had achieved some measure of bonding during their time together. Surely they could co-exist in a more personal atmosphere without too much commotion…

_That's right, Molly_, she told herself wryly. _Live in hope_.

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"What's with the new house?" Ramsey peered out the window of the car, studying Molly's house intently as Cavennaugh pulled into the driveway. The stocky dwarf had donned what he lovingly thought of as his gangster hoodie and precisely scuffed jeans for the occasion. He had also brought a wardrobe large enough to last him a month- after all, if he was going to be around Molly Caffrey day in and day out, especially considering that they were going to be in such enclosed quarters, he had to look his very best. There was no escape for her over the next few days…he smirked as he entertained several enjoyable fantasies.

Referring to the time he had invaded her bedroom after Gunneson's attack, Molly said, "I didn't feel quite comfortable knowing that _you_ knew where to find me at home," with the hint of a bite in her tone.

"Well, it appears that aim has been rendered moot," Fenway observed, as they piled out of the car. "He's here now."

Taking a look at the dwarf's ecstatic expression, Lucas murmured, "You can say that again. Now he actually gets to _live_ there…"

"So I didn't need to offer you the two doors option, Ramsey?" said Cavennaugh. "I guess if I had just mentioned a 'sleepover', as you put it," he slid a sly glance over to Molly before continuing, "I wouldn't have had any trouble convincing you to be a part of the team."

"What two doors?" asked Lucas in confusion.

"Nothing important…but whoa, Cavennaugh, you might want to add this to your list of perks of being on the job next time you want to convince someone to leave their nice, cushy lifestyle in order to join a battle for the survival of mankind," Ramsey said.

Molly slammed the door deliberately. "This is not a perk," she said through gritted teeth, making the effort to modulate her voice into pleasant tones. Now that they were finally at her house, she had begun to feel a little strained, the pressure of being judged weighing upon her. She needed time and planning to go into preparing for something, and having the rest of the team's presence in her home without being notified in time to organize herself left Molly rather edgy. Ideally, had they ever been invited to her house, she would have had ample time to ensure that every last item was in place, and not an object was out of order- for now, she was going to have to put up with visitors even though she had not been able to organize everything to her satisfaction. "Now, guys, why don't you go on and bring the luggage in?" she strode for the door. Maybe while they bickered outside, she could hastily arrange the living room into some semblance of tidiness.

"Wait for me," Ramsey called after her as he hurried along the path in pursuit.

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"Rule number one," Molly said, standing at the mantelpiece while adjusting the time on the clock, glancing at the oversized watch that dwarfed her wrist to gauge its accuracy. "My house, my rules."

"Oh, come on," said Ramsey. "Whatever happened to 'mi casa, su casa'?" he glanced over at Cavennaugh. "In simpler terms, it means 'my house is your house' to those lesser educated types."

"Education counts for little when it comes to one-on-one combat," Cavennaugh said in a threatening tone. "All your fancy language skills would be good for is begging the enemy to spare your life."

"Guys," Molly broke in, redirecting their attention back to her. "Ramsey," she said more specifically, adopting the slow, careful tone of voice one might employ with a mentally challenged audience, "If you were paying attention, you would know that my house is _not_ your house. That's why I get to make the rules. Number two, you do not enter my room or the en suite- there is another shower and toilet at your end of the house, use those facilites, leave me my privacy."

"There's four of us, Molly," Cavennaugh pointed out.

"In that case, I suggest you draw up a schedule to avoid conflict over who uses it when. _No one_ enters my room- Ramsey?" she eyed him suspiciously. "This is one of the two hundred dialects you understand, so I don't expect you to make any mistakes. Now, rule number three, you use something, you clean up after yourself; if you move something, you move it back- if you break it, you don't want to know what happens then," Molly ended on a dire note.

"Any other rules?" Fenway enquired, obviously not shaken.

Regretfully, she had to admit not. It was unlike her not to have a strategy for any situation, and this left her off balance as she fretted over the contingencies she had not yet planned for. Milk, did they have enough milk…? And while she was on the topic, the kitchen windows had not been wiped and cleaned since she'd moved in… "You'll learn them as needed," she said distractedly. "Go get settled in, guys."

The layout of the house allowed her some seclusion from the others. As one entered her home, the master bedroom with its own bathroom was off to the right. Directly ahead from the entrance was the living room, and a door led off it to the kitchen and another lounge area beyond in the center of the house. This fortunately enabled Molly to shut herself off if she so desired; simply closing that connecting door would leave her with the front living room and her bedroom to relax in. Too bad she had never seen the need for locks to be installed on the doors, she thought ruefully. Continuing the tour would reveal the laundry tucked away to the side, and another door sealed off the additional rooms and facilities at the far side of the house.

She headed for the kitchen, briefly anxious about its state. Thankfully, though, the dishes had been stacked away in the cupboards, the counters were wiped clean and the cutlery was spotless. Molly sighed in relief, glad that she had always been one to wash up after herself, rather than leave dishes to pile up til vermin made an appearance.

A question interrupted her unpleasant hypothetical scenario with her slightly overactive imagination depicting an invasion of rats and other unhygienic creatures. "Who did all this?" Cavennaugh had followed her in, and looked curiously at the artwork displayed on the fridge.

"My two nieces," Molly said with a fond smile as she took in the sight of colourfully rendered cartoon characters captured on paper and the few cards she had also chosen to put up. The Valentine's Day card with its comical message never failed to amuse her- the scamps declared their undying love for her every year with increasingly melodramatic and inspired prose. "Those are their pictures," she nodded at two magnetic photo frames with miniature pictures of two young girls cheekily posing for the camera.

He frowned. "But your file-"

"Yes, Cavennaugh, technically, they're not my biological nieces, but my cousin and I have always been close. Kate and Lucy call me 'aunt', what more do you want?"

"I am _starving_," Ramsey burst into the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge. Ignoring their study of its display, he yanked open the door to peruse the inner contents- and choked. "What are you doing to yourself, Caffrey?" he demanded in outrage, pulling out one of the neatly stacked, bland-looking containers. "Turkey and artichoke medley?" he examined another, "Chicken cordon bleu, wild rice, _broccoli_? No one said anything about an enforced diet while we were here!"

"Thinking with your stomach leads to a lifestyle of poor nutrition, which causes clogged arteries and an overburdened heart, weakening your body to the point where you risk cardio-vascular diseases," Fenway said dispassionately.

"I saw you munching on that bag of pretzels," he accused. "And I read that cheery optimistic men are less likely to suffer from heart disease than miserable, wretched old guys." He stared pointedly at Fenway.

"I will certainly enjoy making the Y-incision into your body, pulling out your internal organs and cataloguing the extent of the damage wrought by your excesses before you departed this life," the doctor returned calmly.

"What if someone helped him along before those excesses caught up with him?" Cavennaugh mused out loud.

"That is sick, Fenway," he voiced his disgust over that side remark. "Save the imagery for when I'm not searching for food, would you? Though I'm not sure I have an appetite anymore, between you and Molly's health craze. I don't recognize any of the food groups here…" he regarded the container once more.

"What I find interesting is the fact that they all happen to be labelled," Fenway said, raising an eyebrow in Molly's direction.

"What's all labelled?" Lucas enquired, rejoining the group. "Hey, why would anyone do that?" he asked as he spotted the container still in Ramsey's hand.

Molly eyed the young man carefully, and he raised his hands in a gesture of appeal. "I didn't mean anything by it, I just thought it seemed a little- you know, OCD."

Fenway and Ramsey snickered at that, while Cavennaugh suppressed a smirk as he waited to see Molly's response to the innocent comment.

"OCD?" she repeated, with a sceptical pucker of her eyebrow. "As in-"

"Obsessive compulsive disorder," Fenway elaborated helpfully. "A mental state characterized by an excessive level of fixation on minor details or actions, sometimes expressed by repetitive behaviour, such as compulsive cleaning or arranging of objects…"

"Okay, enough of that already," she said, cutting him off. "I do not suffer from OCD. I like to be orderly and methodical about things. Organized, that's all."

Cavennaugh strolled over to a cupboard and opened it up. "I see," he said bluntly, and pulled the doors open wider to display the row of cups and glasses arranged according to height, consistently spaced, and the cups turned so that the handle was out at the same angle.

Ramsey began to open another cupboard but she shut it firmly as she moved to Cavennaugh's side, grabbing a mug down and setting it on the counter as she began boiling the water. "Anyone want a hot drink?" Molly asked pleasantly as she not so subtly edged him out of the way, drawing attention from the evidence of her compulsive neatening. "I have coffee, tea and hot chocolate…"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Threshold is not mine. Life just isn't that kind.

A/N: For those of you who don't like video games, warning: I focus a lot on Halo…

In Search of Respite

The next hour or so was almost peaceful. Molly had permitted Lucas to set up her own X-box in the den, recognizing that it would be cruel to simultaneously deprive the young man of both his work and his fixation on video games, without having any other distractions. This had led to Ramsey grumbling about favouritism. Which may have had some merit, since she turned a determined blind eye to the suspiciously book-shaped bulges amongst Fenway's luggage. Knowing the doctor, she doubted it was light reading on any of the literary genres spanning romance to action to mystery, and rather more likely to be esoteric, medical volumes. But she overlooked Ramsey's objections, after all, it was not that he wanted to emulate the doctor's example and actually _work_ while they were on vacation- he protested merely due to the principle of the matter. And as for the X-box, Lucas was helping her out as he had offered to unpack the gadgetry from her boxes and install it for her, to save the headache of setting it up later. The fact that he benefited from this arrangement was entirely beside the point. The additional advantage of rubbing Ramsey's nose in it was no one's business but her own.

Cavennaugh had been the lowest-maintenance of the four men, efficiently unpacking the few possessions he had brought with him before joining her in the main living room where she kept an eye on Lucas as he fiddled with the wires and cables. "So, what are we meant to do if we need you for some reason, but you're in the sacred confines of your bedroom?" he asked slyly.

Molly tossed him an amused glance at his transparency. "You're a trained agent, I'm sure I don't need to teach you how to improvise as the situation calls for it. I stand by what I said earlier- no one enters my room under any frivolous pretext. Grown men like you can handle whatever comes up, _not_ that I'm expecting much excitement here." She looked up at the ceiling solemnly, as though in silent prayer.

He snickered. "Don't tempt fate, Molly, you might not like what it throws back at you. But it is _probably_ more likely that we _may_ end up in more danger of turning on each other from sheer boredom than any other more hazardous scenario. Possibly."

"And never was there a more heavily qualified statement than that," she said, shaking her head. "Here I thought I was the contingency analyst."

"Not right now, you aren't," Cavennaugh said. "We're on vacation remember? What could possibly happen?"

"Famous last words," Lucas remarked, sitting back on his heels as he finally finished hooking up the X-box. "There, that should do it…" he fiddled with the remote and succeeded in bringing up the menu. "Excellent…"

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"Caffrey, surely there's something in your protocols about limiting exposure to violent video games designed to stimulate a rush of adrenaline and aggression that-"

"Ramsey, shut up," came three different voices. Lucas just grinned at the support and turned his focus back to his game. Cavennaugh sprawled onto the couch beside him, watching the younger man's progress in one of the various Halo levels.

"What are you up to now?" he asked idly, not out of interest so much as to while away the time til he could return to action. This enforced break was not his idea of a good time, and being required to undertake the time off with the Red Team members left him off balance, bereft of the usual composure he gained from actually doing something useful.

"Well, actually, I've beaten all the levels," Lucas responded with a rather staccato intonation, eyes unblinking as he struggled to master the current battle. "I'm just going back to do them on legendary now."

"Huh?" Cavennaugh asked, not certain what the allusion meant.

"There are four levels- easy, normal, heroic and legendary. This is the hardest- oh, not again!" he dropped the controller in disgust as the soldier onscreen collapsed to the ground, surrounded by gleeful alien creatures waving weapons.

"Hey, Lucas, want to go co-operative?" Molly dropped onto the couch as well.

"Sure, I could use your help," he offered her a grin. "And it is your property."

Ramsey surveyed the three with disgust. "How nice and cozy for you all," he said with immense sarcasm. "Good for you, Lucas, they're all on your side now- what if I want to watch tv? I haven't seen any decent programs in ages!"

"Decent programs for you, Ramsey," Molly said languidly as she selected her player onscreen, "would probably not have any correlation whatsoever to the true meaning of the word- and I don't think that is at all what I would want to be watching anywhere else, let alone in my own house."

"Point taken, but that doesn't detract from the fact that Lucas has shamelessly manipulated you into taking sides."

"When have I been manipulating?" the accused protested.

" 'Oh, Doctor Caffrey, I was wondering if you maybe wanted me to set up your X-box, it would be no trouble at all, and perhaps you might let me play a little…'" he mimicked.

"That's called being considerate," Molly said with approval. "Something you could stand to learn for yourself someday."

"Besides, what are you complaining for?" Cavennaugh dropped the tv guide he had been studying back onto the coffee table. "I doubt 'Judge Judy' holds any appeal for you and 'Big Brother Uncut' doesn't start til after nine."

"There's always Jerry Springer," Ramsey said. "That's good for a laugh. 'My husband ran off with my best friend, then left the country and changed their names and appearances so that my gun-toting father couldn't hunt them down and kill them on the spot'," he reeled off with mock enthusiasm.

Or was it? Cavennaugh wondered. One couldn't always tell when the dwarf was joking and it was often safer to let well enough alone, rather than investigate further. "Out of luck there, your closest option is Oprah," he shrugged in fake sympathy. "Face it, you were never going to win."

"The world is against me," Ramsey muttered with pathos, but his pathetic bid for attention went unnoticed by an audience firmly otherwise occupied. Molly and Lucas were intent on waging war onscreen, Cavennaugh was starting to develop some interest in their battle simulation while Fenway sat at the dining table with his head firmly buried in one of the few tomes he had smuggled over with his belongings. No one had the heart to rat him out, figuring it would work out best for all of them if he could be kept quiet by reading his way through the ordeal.

"So what is your objective?" Cavennaugh asked the players.

"There's an alien threat to earth…" Molly began.

"Sounds familiar," he said wryly.

"Well, they're a little more tangible than multi-dimensional beings that use sonic weaponry, which helps our cause. We just try to eradicate the threat by taking out every creature in sight and blowing their ships to hell," Molly said. "Simplistic, really, but quite absorbing."

He didn't make any response, noticing that he had lost her attention during her efforts to traverse the long and winding corridors in a manner that would indicate she knew where she was going.

"Are you lost, Molly?" Ramsey asked, nothing more appealing to him than riling someone up. Unfortunately, it backfired as she coolly ignored him. He shrugged and begun to read through the Halo leaflet he pulled from the case cover. "'_This was humankind's first encounter with a group of aliens they eventually came to know as the Covenant'_," he announced dramatically, then paused to scowl at the page, "Wait, the Covenant? That's the big scary enemy? Who would take the name 'Covenant' seriously? Anyway…'_religious elders declared humanity an affront to the gods…waged a holy war upon humanity with gruesome diligence'_…well, they wouldn't want to wage a war with pleasant tolerance, would they?"

"Watch out, zombie!" Lucas cried out warningly. The lower half of the split-screen, which belonged to Molly, showed a gruesome looking figure charging forwards, slashing wildly to cause a blood-red hue splashing over the screen. She fired her gun, the rounds knocking the creature back, violently shuddering through its body before it finally dropped in defeat. Immediately another rose to take its place, while a huge monster shuffled forward towards her.

"Oh, no…it's going to blow," she muttered, biting her lip. Indeed, the grotesquely swollen creature did explode, and Cavennaugh made the repugnant discovery that little creatures launched forth from the carcass, attacking both players. "They don't really hurt much individually, but when they all land on you…" Molly trailed off, concentrating on bashing them with her gun. "It's better to swat them, to conserve ammo. Some of the big dudes need a whole lot of shooting before they go down, so we can't afford to waste our ammo on these suckers." As she swung at another, Cavennaugh noticed that the little monsters were actually decapitated heads with tentacles writhing around them.

"They're annoying enough individually," Lucas added. "And together they managed to kill me once before, I was writhing all over with these heads leeching the health out of me- it was not a pretty sight…And that's the lot of them gone," he breathed in relief. "I need a life pack though, I'm almost dead…" The health display was reduced to one solitary red bar, ominously low.

"There's one here," Molly told him as she picked up a machine gun, dropping her plasma weapon, and continued to forage through the bodies for other resources.

"Great," he said, heading for the green arrow that marked the team-mate's position. Cavennaugh noticed a blip on the man's radar.

"What's that?" he said, pointing it out.

"Hmm?" Lucas said absently, looking over-"Oh, damn it, there's something still here! No!" a grisly head filled the screen, latching onto him mercilessly. The last health bar faded, and his screen paled before showing the message:

'_Teammate in combat. Waiting to respawn…'_

"Dead yet again," he sighed. "So much for my enhanced co-ordination."

"You can't blame everything on being genetically mutated by aliens intent on taking over our planet," Ramsey chided him from his perch on the armrest, which not so coincidentally seated him in close proximity to Molly. She pulled her collar tighter around her throat with overstated modesty, darting a sly look at him.

"The thrill is gone," he muttered jokingly.

"If all the thrill in your life comes from trying to sneak glances down my top, you are in serious trouble," she said without a hint of sympathy.

"There's nothing like the element of surprise, Lucas," Cavennaugh defended him philosophically, ignoring this little byplay. "Must have been a game glitch- it only flashed on your radar a second before it attacked, which defeats the point of having it in the first place."

"Yeah…but I'm still dead. Here, you want to play? I'll get something to drink," Lucas handed him the controller and headed for the kitchen.

"Make sure you bring a coaster," Molly called after him. Cavennaugh glanced at the coffee table, before straightening the tv guide he had carelessly dropped, aligning it with exaggerated care. "Thank you, Cavennaugh," she told him with a heavy sigh. "Don't act like it's such a big deal- I just don't want scratches on the table, okay?"

"Uh-huh," Ramsey said agreeably, watching as she maneuvered her character to a safe place, respawning her team-mate and allowing Cavennaugh to play. "The same way you didn't want us eating takeout straight from the box?"

"Plates were created for a reason, Ramsey," she told him. "To keep sloppy people from ruining the carpet with bits and pieces of food."

"What about the way you freak out if someone picks up an ornament and puts it back in a millimetre out of position?" Cavennaugh asked her innocently. "Or how every power-point has to be switched off immediately after use?"

"If anyone cared to read into it, you would know that even if the appliance is off, there is still an electrical current flowing through and it has been known to cause fires before if the user isn't careful about it," she said defensively, game forgotten as the controller lay unheeded in her lap.

"Molly, I highly doubt anyone would make the mistake of calling you incautious," Fenway contributed to the conversation. "Or reckless. You're the most- _organized_ human being I have ever been acquainted with."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," she protested, looking over her shoulder to the table where the doctor sat complacently. While she was distracted, Cavennaugh familiarized himself with the controls, tracking down her stationary character on screen, developing his skill at moving around and using his weapons. Discovering a sniper rifle, he carefully aimed at Molly, zooming in and out as he located her in his crosshairs- then fired a single shot. She didn't even notice the impact vibrating through her controller, too intent on the conversation.

"All I'm saying is that being a contingency analyst must have its drawbacks," he heard Fenway say in an indifferent tone sure to rile Molly up.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded

"Basically," Ramsey inserted helpfully in the face of her exasperated look of confusion, "If you're trained to see worst-case scenarios day in and day out- heck, you even _dream_ about it these days- then it can't help but turn you into a neurotic, irrational obsessive-compulsive mass of phobias. That's all."

As she turned on him, aghast at his words, Cavennaugh moved onto hand-to-hand combat; ducking, jumping, swinging with his rifle- and having misjudged his distance, he accidentally caught Molly in a direct strike that knocked her out of play. _Oops_…he thought in consternation.

Lucas returned from the kitchen with a glass of mango juice, oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. "Hey, Molly," he noticed, "How did you die?" Too late he caught Cavennaugh's pained expression. "Or you could just- forget I said that…" he trailed off.

"What?" she looked back at the screen. "There's no one even here- Cavennaugh!" she said as realization dawned. "Oh, that is it-" as she respawned, Molly took revenge, "There, take a grenade or two off my hands," she said in satisfaction, targeting him with deadly precision and watching as the ensuing explosion wiped him out. "Imagine the grand soldier of the team sneaking up behind my back and taking me out in such a cowardly manner!"

"It was an accident," he protested, viewing his dead body with resignation. Cavennaugh made a mental note never to provoke her again…the results could be more permanent the next time.

"Accident?" she said in disbelief.

"Didn't look like that to me," Ramsey said reflectively. "I mean, he shot you just before and that wasn't an accident, he drew a bead on you and fired, that cold-hearted son of a…" he grinned widely as Cavennaugh threw him a dirty look.

"Maybe we should play 'Mortal Kombat' next," Lucas suggested helpfully. "It might help resolve some of these issues…"

"Excellent idea, Lucas," she said, smiling sweetly at Cavennaugh, who casually raised a brow to cover his double-take at the abrupt mood swing. "I'll look forward to a rematch," she told him, still with that chilling smile, her hazel eyes darkening to a brooding green.

"She's lethal in 'Mortal Kombat'," Lucas said good-naturedly. "Usually the female characters are more vulnerable because they lack the size and brawn of the male and monster characters, but her dexterity is amazing, especially the way she wields a sword, and as for her mastery of special powers…"

"I'd be scared, Cavennaugh, my man," Ramsey told him, not bothering to conceal his delight at the turn of events. "_Extremely_."

Fenway had the last word and he exulted in it as he elegantly drawled with dripping irony, "You definitely shouldn't have provoked her, Cavennaugh…"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Threshold is not mine. If it were, I wouldn't have this disclaimer, now would I?

In Search of Respite

Fenway's morning started off with a small irritation. If anything involving Ramsey could be described as a mere 'irritation'. That would hardly be enough to convey the extent of the endless frustration he took delight in providing, all in the name of his role as resident pest, of course. Those who knew him had their own special names for him, but they would be far too rude for public airing.

For the moment, Fenway attempted to traverse the prudent course, turning another page in his book, and praying that he might yet outlast this challenging experience of captivity with the rest of the team. But it was rather distracting, he found, to have someone sitting right across the table with their eyes boring into you, humming an inane little tune from some television ad. He was certain that Ramsey had not blinked once- he would have heard it. The dwarf managed to make the smallest act, even blinking, an epic performance of deafening proportions. It was something to do with announcing his presence for those who may not have been privileged enough to register it yet. Ramsey was definitely having fun trying to discomfit the doctor, secure in the knowledge that Fenway had limited means of escape.

Once he wearied of the non-blinking, fixated stare game, he moved onto the complex process of consuming cereal, making a huge deal of clinking his spoon as he dipped it into the bowl, swirling it around with a grinding noise. Ramsey scraped the very bottom, being quite thorough about the matter, and then lifted the spoon out, milk droplets pattering loudly back into the bowl, and slurped the cornflakes into his mouth, smacking his lips as he did so. _And then repeat…_By about the fourth rendition, he could actually see the doctor's teeth grinding together in an attempt to refrain from making any response.

"So, Fenway," he said. "Enjoying the book this morning?" he even managed to muster up a casually interested expression.

"This is an achievement," Molly remarked brightly as she entered the room. She had forgone the usual suit this morning in favour of jeans and an open white shirt with a striped singlet underneath. "You two are actually having a civilized conversation for once," she noted at the sight of the two men apparently socializing amiably.

Obviously, she was sadly mistaken in her interpretation of how matters lay. With a muffled exclamation, Fenway rose from the table, grabbed his book and declared on his way out, "I wish you all the joy of making 'civilized conversation' with him. Make the most of it, won't you? Do tell me how it goes."

"You forgot your plate," she called, but he was gone. "Ramsey, clear the table when you're done."

"Why me?" he asked indignantly.

"Because you're here. And because I'm sure you had something to do with why Fenway just stalked out of the room looking distinctly agitated." She moved on with a briskness that brooked no further protests, "Where's Lucas this morning?"

"I don't think he knows it's morning yet. Besides, it's not like we're doing anything terribly important. He probably just wants to sleep in."

"And miss out on all this excitement?" Cavennaugh said dryly, making his grand entrance.

Cavennaugh dressed down pretty much incorporated the same nondescript theme as when he was dressed for work. "You don't own anything casual that's _not_ shades of black, grey or beige, do you?" said Ramsey. He himself wore a loud Hawaiian shirt over tracksuit pants, the vibrant colors of the tropical scene set off by the low statement pants- they were indoors after all. Concessions could be made for comfort.

"Criticism from someone who would wear that hideous shirt?"

"I'm making a statement." The dwarf pulled a face. "You're just- boring."

"Ramsey, don't make me reintroduce you to the two doors."

"This is the second time someone's made that cryptic remark," said Molly. "What _are_ you guys talking about?"

"Do you recall making any allowance in your plan for _voluntary_ participation by the Red Team members?" Ramsey asked her. "Because the 'two doors' scenario is Cavennaugh's method of recruitment into the plan to save the world, best summed up as 'threat to use brute force'."

"Cavennaugh!" she chided him, feigned disillusionment staining that exclamation.

"Coercion is such an ugly word," Ramsey sighed, playing it up for all he was worth.

"Stop trying to throw a pity party," Cavennaugh bypassed the cereal and toast, opting for fruit instead. "I was being generous in giving you options to begin with."

"Work your ass off for no benefits, pain or more pain?" he asked the agent.

Molly frowned thoughtfully. "I count three options there," she said. "What about you, Cavennaugh? Could it be our expert mathematician has erred in his calculations somewhere?"

"I thought he was supposed to be the best in his field. _You_ recommended him," he reminded her, choosing an apple.

"Well, I didn't realize the personality clashes would be quite so arduous. It _is_ difficult to predict patterns of human interaction, you know."

He shrugged, intent on making quick work of the apple. It was rapidly demolished in the space of a few seconds, reduced to little more than the stump.

"You're going to have an apple tree growing out of your stomach," Ramsey warned, then smirked. "I used to freak out my sister all the time, telling her that kind of rubbish. She actually believed the seeds would grow into a tree and choke her to death when it branched out of her throat."

Molly threw him a dubious glance. "Bet it was fun growing up with _you_."

"You say that like it was a bad thing," he said with reproach.

"After that story, you expect me to believe otherwise?"

"Hey, I may have messed with her mind, but no one else messed with my sister. I handled those bullies in the playground for her all the time," he bragged.

"And what about when she started high school?" Cavennaugh said. "I'm sure you were a real threat to the kids there."

Ramsey opened his mouth to reveal- amongst other less savory, semi chewed materials- sharp rows of teeth and snapped them warningly. "Don't doubt my ability to do some serious damage, Cavennaugh. Underestimating your opponent always works in my favor…Aren't you guys trained to know this kind of thing?"

"Peace, gentlemen," Molly interrupted. "Don't squabble or I'll be forced to treat you like the children you-" the sound of her mobile's ring tone interrupted what promised to be the beginning of a fascinating putdown. "Caffrey," she said in business-like tones, the previous light-heartedness evaporating in a moment. "Oh," she chuckled, "Hi, Cassidy. Yes, I do have caller ID, it's just second nature to assume work calls…"

The other two looked at each other. 'Cassidy?' mouthed Ramsey.

Cavennaugh raised a brow. He knew, but he wasn't telling.

The dwarf went back to slurping his cereal as loudly as possible.

"Is it serious?" came the concerned query and their ears perked up again. "Which hospital? Yes…they have a good reputation, she should be- yes, I know, you've already done the research…I'm not trying to micromanage, don't you start…" Sixth sense warning her of their eavesdropping, Molly narrowed her eyes at the guys and walked down the hall to the main living room, shutting the connecting door firmly behind her.

"The only problem is the kids," her cousin Cassidy said with a pained laugh. "They're darlings when they please, but I can't take them interstate with me. It would just add to the nightmare. Now, I know that you're busy with your work, but I was hoping…"

"You want me to take the girls in?" Molly asked. "As it so happens, I have a few days leave at the moment, so it isn't a problem. Besides, it's family. We live to help each other," she paused for effect. "You _do_ realize you owe me, right?"

Cassidy sighed. "Yes, I know. And I also know that you're doing me a huge favor, so I won't complain. At least, not til this crisis is over and I can forget just how relieved I was at your rescue." They laughed, knowing how true that was for many people in various matters a lot of the time. "I just don't know how much care mom will need. The kids finish school at the end of the week, so their schedule won't matter too much. Pretty flexible, which makes it easier, one less headache. If it looks like I need to stay for a while, then we'll make other arrangements for them to come over, but just right now…"

"It doesn't really help to have two girls running amok, I understand," Molly said sympathetically. "Don't worry about it."

"Wonderful. I'll drop them off in an hour or two. Thanks ever so. Love you…"

"Love you too. Bye."

Molly ended the call, mind churning furiously. Four guys. Two girls. One dog. All in her house...

Heaven help them all.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Threshold is not mine. If it were, I wouldn't have this disclaimer, now would I?

A/N: Celeste, be warned- I mention the toe. Again… And a general note- I'm not around kids much, so don't mind my girls here being rather mature for their age. There have to be some children somewhere that are intelligent and articulate as well as wise beyond the sum of their tender years. Right?

In Search of Respite

"I thought I told you to take a vacation, Molly," Baylock said with resignation. Really, Caffrey was quite a revelation in the manner she compulsively accepted additional responsibility when most would seek to avoid it. "The words 'refreshed' and 'rejuvenated' come to mind. I'm sure I conveyed them quite clearly."

"Yes, you did, JT," she said agreeably, sitting on the floor in her bedroom with Monster beside her for moral support as she phoned in to JT. "And here we five are, having the time of our lives at my humble residence."

"I take it all is going well so far? The guards report no disturbances."

"As well as can be expected," Molly answered, her tone communicating a slight hesitancy with her response.

Baylock half wished he'd had the foresight to install bugs in her new house. What scenes they would have recorded…it was a shame he was not witness to the chaos that was inevitably occurred when one put five people with wildly varying personality types into one house, with limited contact with the outside world and only each other to turn to- or against. Now this would have been reality television worth viewing.

It was a good thing that Molly was unable to read the thoughts going through his mind. She might have been strongly tempted to do something rash and impetuous. No one had seen her lose her temper yet, but she was highly strung these days, and who knew what might unleash the ferocity within that serene, unflustered heart?

"Ramsey and Fenway weren't able to share breakfast with each other in a sociable manner," she went on, "but it would be unreasonable to expect great strides in the enhancement and strengthening of our team dynamics after one night. Lucas is probably the most well-adjusted. He's set up my X-box, which is serving him well as a de-stressor, and for relaxation purposes. He's also still in bed, so I'm sure you'll be pleased he's heeding your dictate to sleep our way to improved wellbeing and good health."

Monster raised his head to eye her questioningly, and there was only silence on the other end of the phone line.

"I did _not_ mean that the way it sounded," Molly hastily clarified as she realized the way her words could be interpreted. "It was a-" she broke off and released a sigh of chagrin. "A figure of speech, you know what I mean. After all, you did tell us to get some sleep."

"All right, Molly," he decided to go easy on the woman. She did not need ribbing from him to make her life any harder. "I'll forget what you said."

"Isn't that the wonderful thing about covert projects? Nothing ever happened. People deny everything. But that's also the drawback- pf these projects, conspiracy theories are born. Why don't people ever believe the government has their best interests at heart?"

"Because it so rarely does. DC politics have a way of forcing the good guys to battle with the bureaucracy even more so than the bad guys. It's an uphill struggle all the way. And the ordinary people don't appreciate the points we have to concede only because it's the way things go, because we aren't guaranteed all we need to succeed, even if it's in the nation's best interests, or even the whole world's best interests. They see it as selling out, when we have no choice but to compromise."

"Now that's the magic word: compromise. I'm doing what you wanted, now it isn't such a big deal to add my nieces to the mix, is it?"

"I don't see how you plan to relax at all, what with kids running around in need of supervision," he warned.

"JT, really. Look at the situation, I already have four big kids that require constant supervision. I'm shuddering to think what they're getting up to while I'm on the phone with you. The girls will add a bit of cheer to the place, their vivacity will just pep everyone up. And hopefully give some perspective to encourage the rest of the team to act their age. It can work."

"Who are you trying to convince, Molly?" he said gently.

"You. I'm definitely trying to convince you, I don't need it myself."

"And if I say it's not a good idea, you'll wear yourself out trying to maintain order with the extra responsibility of two girls? Just because I'm concerned for how you'll cope? Your cousin could always have someone else take care of them, hire a babysitter to look after them, for instance, rather than impose on you."

"I don't work like that," Molly said sharply, and then realized she had said it the wrong way. Probably reinforcing his notion that she ought to take time off and put her feet up. Rubbing her forehead, she rephrased, "Our family isn't like that. It's not an obligation, or a duty, it's…look, I don't need permission from you. Anyway, I'm taking leave at the moment. Technically, you can't give me orders right now."

"Then why did you call me?"

She narrowed her eyes. If he had been before her at that very moment, Baylock might have succumbed to spontaneous human combustion right then and there. Instead, the potted fern that was in her line of view did not seem to be vulnerable to the furious intensity of such hostile gazes. It was one of those things that only human flesh was defenseless against. Then she cooled. "I'm not sure, really. Force of habit, I guess. Reporting back to you on the situation."

"Thank you for keeping me informed," he said gravely. "I'll let the guards know not to shoot down any approaching vehicles with a female driver and children inside. Your threat assessment for the subjects is low, minimal risk. You're sure you trust them? They're not going to turn nasty on us and bring in a bomb with them?"

"You'll be the first to know," she quipped.

"Very well then, proceed with caution."

"Sir, yes, sir," humor laced her tone. "I feel like I should salute or something."

"No need to worry about that," Baylock relaxed his language, reverting to informality again. "Hopefully you haven't bitten off more than you chew, Molly."

"Trust me, JT. I can handle it." She hung up, trying to maintain that sense of bravado that had punctuated her parting words. With a sigh, she leant over to rub her head against Monster's, murmuring, "Well, at least I can trust _you_ not to give me any trouble."

----------------------

Maternal instincts had never bothered Molly overmuch, despite Fenway's clichéd reference to the supposed biological clock that held such immense sway over otherwise mature and level-headed women, it actually convinced them that conceiving offspring was the most vital task in the entire world. Sure their bodies were built for it, but really. She had always found the suggestion that women were little more than brood mares, designed to bear children and then be left with the chore of rearing them, one that was quite offensive. It was a choice, not an obligation, and one that needed to be carefully thought through and well considered.

True to form, she had prepared a plan to regulate this aspect of life as well. It catered for two children by the age of 39, preferably one of either gender. However, the recent crisis had somewhat effectively put a screeching halt to those plans. What with this alien interference, who knew what civilization on Earth would be like by the time she reached that age? If the planet had not fallen apart by then…if she would even still be around by then. Living day by day, one crisis at a time, had the result of diminishing the importance of finding a male partner to create those children with, considering how men were a rather necessary component of the entire process, even in these times. She had, however, occasionally come across hysterical speculations of scientists doing away with the need for men in procreation in the future. Those articles were always good for a chuckle.

For the moment, any latent nurturing instincts were satisfied by visiting her adorable nieces or having them over for a few days. That was the best role, she had concluded. Spoil the kids rotten and then send them back to be educated, disciplined and instructed in manners and responsibility. They adored her and she had fun with them. It was a win-win situation.

This situation was a new one, though. Molly tried not to let the thought preoccupy her. Cavennaugh had once characterized her as a person that thrived on worst case scenarios. That was not entirely accurate- she savored the sweet heady feeling of success at another crisis weathered, each disaster averted; there was a surge of satisfaction she experienced when implementing a new set of protocols that forced another catastrophe into submission, watching it cave to the rigorously planned procedure she had designed. Control, in other words. What person could resist its allure? But the fact that she carved a career in pursuing it meant that when she was faced with something new, something she had no plan for, _that_ bothered her. Molly was not free of anxiety, she merely minimized the ways it could impact her. And when it found a way to sneak past the defenses she had so painstakingly set in place to confine it…that unsettled her. She looked to prove herself. This was just the opportunity.

The smile on her face was warm and genuine as she greeted her cousin. Cassidy was tall and blonde, with a slim and straight figure. She had woefully bemoaned her boyish body in comparison to Molly's more curvy figure when they were teenagers, but this self-perceived flaw certainly hadn't deterred the boys from pursuing her. Even now, after two pregnancies, she had maintained her slender shape, her good looks and the youthful glow of vitality that abandoned many by their late twenties.

It was positively criminal. And yet she was so cheerful and pleasant, it was difficult to dislike her. Perhaps if one tried to actively hate her, it could be managed, but she tended to win over most people eventually. Of course, they were still occasionally given to slight twinges of envy, but that passed fairly quickly. After all, one could never envy a mother's work, and with the father out of the picture, she certainly had her hands full coping with her two girls.

Speaking of those hellions, they scrambled out of their monster of a car, hopping down from a perilous height, and raced over to join in the embrace the two women were exchanging, turning it into an exuberant group hug that threatened to bring them all crashing down to the ground.

Kate was the younger of the two, with the hazel eyes that were common to their family and the fine blond hair she had inherited from her mother, which she carelessly left to loosely flow as it pleased. Lucy, in contrast, usually bound her darker hair in a tightly controlled plait, one that reached all the way down her back to about waist length. It made her feel like Lara Croft, the main reason she maintained this vanity. To achieve the image she aspired to, Lucy wore a plain black top with jeans tucked into the requisite in-season boots, and a wide belt with elaborate silver detailing to complete the outfit. Kate relished brighter colors and patterns, today modelling a blindingly white peasant skirt with a sky blue singlet, over which she wore a knotted crop top, one that was a riot of jungle inspired greens and yellow and oranges.

"Hi, Auntie Molly!" both girls competed to see whose shriek could reach the higher decibel, and she winced at the penetrating volume of their combined voices.

"Stop that, you wretches," she pretended to scold them even as she was kissing their cheeks, the skin soft and smooth with youth, and lightly chucking their chins. "You'll make us the spectacle of the whole street. I won't be able to face my neighbours after this shameful display." Molly wilfully ignored the fact that she did not socialize much with anyone on the adjoining properties, probably since Threshold had monopolized pretty much every aspect of her life since the protocols had been activated.

After looking at the house and around down the street, Kate said, "Auntie Em, Auntie Em…we're not in Kansas anymore. You didn't tell us you'd moved!"

"Good thing we decided not to run away and embark on an epic journey to your place," Lucy said musingly. "Wandering the streets by day and robbing stores by night for food to nourish us on our travels."

"I thought we were going to rob a bank," Kate objected. "So that we only had to risk our lives once, and then when we had the money, we could go and buy food legally. We do have to worry about the state of our souls, you know. If we only steal once, that should make us less wicked than if we went and stole from a store every night. What do you think, Auntie Molly?"

"I think that logic is a little warped," Molly said wryly. "Although you could bring it up with a priest. They might be better equipped to handle this sort of religious dilemma."

"But then I saw Prison Break on tv," Lucy returned to topic with a shudder. "Have you seen it?" she questioned Molly, who shook her head.

"I'm afraid I've been a bit preoccupied with work lately," she confessed.

"Well, the main dude robbed a bank and got put in prison, and some other inmates cut off his toe," Lucy made an expression of disgust. "I didn't feel like plotting to rob a bank after that. You feel free, though," she said to Kate.

"_Thank_ you."

"I'll thank you both to get your things out of the car," said their mother. "I have a million other things to attend to, and since you darlings have been taken off my hands, I'd like to get to them. Now, the only immediate problem is lugging your bags to the house…" she looked at Molly and explained, "They thought there was a slim chance they might never see me again, and if I was going to abandon them here, they might as well have _every_ single possession they ever owned with them. Ready to start a new life without me. I swear, we practically needed a removalist to come transport all the suitcases they'd packed before I put my foot down." Cassidy would have continued, much entertained by her daughters' twin looks of outrage, but was struck dumb for a moment by the sight she saw emerging from the house. "Molly, you fraud," she accused, once she had recovered the power of speech. "All that talk about being preoccupied with _work_. I'm guessing that's not the only thing you've been busy with," she said slyly.

Molly turned to see what had caught her attention, and saw Cavennaugh approaching them. "It's not what you think," she said lamely. That feeling was reinforced by Cassidy's look of incredulity, and she groaned inwardly. Her cousin was like a dog with a bone, gnawing at it relentlessly, burying it for a while and then digging it back up at the most inconvenient of times. This was exactly the sort of bone she adored playing with.

"Ma'am," he said with a nod to Cassidy. "Ladies," he directed towards the girls. "Need any assistance with carrying in the luggage?"

Cassidy smiled appreciatively. "My knight in shining armour. I'm afraid they're rather heavy, the girls over-packed. Considerably."

"No problem," he assured her, catching the keys she threw to him and headed for the car.

"You have a man staying over with you," she hissed to Molly in a low tone. "What's not to understand?"

"The nature of our relationship, for one," Molly hissed back, and then hesitated as she wondered how to account for Cavennaugh. Oblivious to their conversation, he reached into the car, easily grabbing hold of two suitcases and lifting them out. He was clearly not the type of man she could explain away as just another academic. The man's entire demeanour boasted his physical prowess and overpowering masculinity, an impression rather difficult to reconcile with a paper-pusher, for whom the most intense exercise would amount to chasing a pen around a table all day. She had vast experience with those kinds of people, and they would find it impossible to casually lift out fully loaded suitcases in the effortless manner he had just demonstrated.

"Yeah, about that, my girls are fairly pure and innocent- think you can restrain yourself enough to keep them that way? I wouldn't blame you for struggling, he's that attractive, but I _would_ like to find them naïve and uncorrupted when I pick them up."

Molly came closer than she ever had to actually _spluttering_ in a conversation. She certainly was floundering, though. The cover stories- or lies, as Fenway would call them- that she readily used when out in the field came to her lips without hesitation, but here, she was out of her depth. Mixing personal and professional lives was too much to juggle, and at a loss for anything else more convincing, Molly decided she would just give in and let Cassidy think what she was thinking.

"Thanks, honey," she called out as he went past them. There was the slightest of pauses, Cavennaugh seeming to start a little, but Molly only noticed as she was looking for signs of surprise. This sudden use of endearments rather contributed to startling a person.

"No problems, sweetheart," he replied easily. Their brief stint as a married couple had probably aided this swift recovery. "Always glad to be of service."

"What a charming man," Cassidy murmured, watching the departing Cavennaugh with as much enthusiasm from behind as when he had approached. She slanted Molly a teasing look, as though expecting her to be jealous, "Don't worry, there's no harm in looking. I can't remember the last time we fought over a guy."

"You fought over guys?" Lucy said with distaste. "Lame."

Kate nudged her mother. "Depends on the guy, I guess..."

"Hey, you're not meant to be so precocious. You're my little girls, don't even _think_ about boys like that yet," Cassidy warned them.

"Don't worry, mom, I'm a long way off that," Lucy assured her. Despite being the elder daughter, she was rather less outgoing than the sunny, playful Kate, who tended to adopt a manner around boys that would be termed 'flirtatious' in a teenage girl.

"I promise you, Cass, I will keep them away from all the eligible boys on the block. You won't come back to find them in the throes of young love or nursing a broken heart."

"Speaking of coming back, I suppose I'd have to leave before I can do that," Cassidy said. "All right, girls, come give your mother a kiss good-bye."

Molly tactfully stepped apart from the others to give them a bit of privacy. Just for something to do, she went to unload the rest of the luggage so that her cousin could actually leave without being weighed down by excess suitcases containing- who knew what. Distracted by ruminations on what her nieces could have possibly decided they absolutely couldn't live without for the next few days, Molly reached for the case at the top of the tower stacked in the back of the car. Taken aback by the reality of how true Cassidy's words were, as she staggered under the weight of the case, she came perilously close to dropping an uncomfortably heavy weight on her feet- something generally not desired by most people, ranking up there with slamming one's hand in a drawer or being bitten by a rabid dog.

Fortunately, her newly acquired significant other came to the rescue. Observing Molly's struggle, Cavennaugh reached around her petite frame to stabilize the awkward descent of the case, preventing any unfortunate injuries that could have been sustained by its plunge to the ground. He rather liked Molly the way she was, and watching her feet undergo immediate and painful amputation would have caused him a twinge of anguish on her behalf, and perhaps even a few tears. Hence his gallant intervention- it was the only way to be sure of preserving his manly pride.

It also had the effect of winning her gratitude. "And they say chivalry is dead," she managed a chuckle as they lowered the troublesome suitcase to the ground. "Thanks, Cavennaugh. This is exactly why I keep you around."

"I live to serve. You couldn't beat me away with a stick," he said solemnly.

She turned to face him and was forced to lean back against the car and look up, their close proximity highlighting the difference in their heights. Adopting a challenging smirk, Molly said, "Of course, you _did_ teach me how to shoot…straight for the heart." She emphasized the point with a testy jab over the aforementioned organ. If the dratted man decided to loom over her so aggravatingly, then she was perfectly justified in resorting to jabbing.

"But good partner substitutes are so hard to find," he pointed out, "Imagine, if you did away with me, the next time you need to go undercover, you might find yourself married to Ramsey."

With a moue of distaste, Molly conceded, "Excellent argument. I choose the lesser of the two evils." She patted him on the cheek, in a manner some might call 'condescending', or others 'insulting'. Cavennaugh chose to take it as a sign of affection. "Go on then, less dawdling, more carrying. I'll leave you to it." Then again…

He refused to budge, trapping her against the car. "Don't I get a something out of this?" he asked innocently, watching her eyes. While they did not offer extensive insights into her soul, they were quite expressive, and right now, they expressed her indecision over whether to hurt him severely or let it slide. Cavennaugh watched them narrow as she considered the matter, then sparkle with unexpected merriment.

"Sure, Cavennaugh." She raised herself slightly and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Let's be friends, shall we?" Molly ducked under his arm, leaving him shaking his head with amusement before returning to making himself useful, as she went to farewell Cassidy.


End file.
